the wicked waythe slivered pathto meeting yourself in the middle of your lifewhere Love Street and Hate Street intersectand there is a tavern on the corner called Death & Sexwhere we all belly up and look at each otherwith wide eyeswith woundsand wild storieswe just swing our arms around each other and swaywe sing predictable songsand whisper old dreams to each other all careful and solemnlike they are brittle glasssmall buttonstiny tearslike they would break if we would dare shout them out